A Friend Indeed
by Fallen Angel Of The Forgotten
Summary: It's three in the morning, and there are thieves in the hotel's kitchen. Komatsu does not approve. And apparently, neither does Zebra.


**Summary – **It's three in the morning, and there are thieves in the kitchen. Komatsu does not approve. And apparently, neither does Zebra.

A Friend Indeed

Komatsu was the chef of the six-star restaurant _Hotel Gourmet. _He was well-known due to his association with the Four Kings, his partnership with Toriko, as well as his ability to recreate old foods long thought extinct – the Century Soup was an excellent example. He was looked up to by younger cooks hoping for a chance in the gourmet world, as well as a few of the older chefs who found his Food Luck and peaceful self nice to see in such a dangerous era.

Equally, he had rivals who were jealous or just plain pissed that they were being upstaged by such a 'undersized runt'; he had some who had outright accused him of putting narcotics in the food to make it more addicting, or gaining favor through underhanded methods. Naturally the Four Kings were quick to shoot down any rumors they heard – they were all rather protective of their darling chef – but there was just no reasoning with jealousy.

In his recent years of service, Komatsu had dealt with love letters, hate mail, death threats, police investigations into his food as well as his recipes; he had been arrested twice – both times framed by old friends or new rivals seeking to take 'the arrogant boy down a peg' or replace him entirely – and saved consequently by Toriko and Zebra, both of who had not only terrified the police, but also found evidence that proved Komatsu's innocence and the guilt of the other party. All in all, a very heavy life for someone who had only just reached the ripe age of twenty-six.

So honestly it was no surprise that he had thieves in his kitchen.

He had woken up at three in the morning with a cramp in his stomach and a throbbing in his head, and had known – the same way he knew the voices of the ingredients – that something was wrong in the kitchen at the _Hotel Gourmet. _Most would assume that knowing that, Komatsu would leave it alone and pay for replacements of whatever they had stolen. But Komatsu had spent an entire year traveling with each of the Four Kings, and had earned valuable knowledge because of it. Toriko in particular had given him the best advice; the same advice that rang in his mind now as he slipped on his shoes, grabbed a couple of frying pans as well as his knives and headed out the door.

"_Your kitchen is your territory. It's where you work, where you breathe, where you perform the art of judgment upon the ingredients. If you let just anyone in there, well then it's not __**your **__territory anymore, you understand? If someone's in your territory that you don't want there, get 'em out. Use whatever you have to, but stand firm and fight."_

And so after a short walk Komatsu sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and entered the_ Hotel Gourmet _at nearly three-thirty in the morning, jaw clenched as he readied himself for battle. Vaguely, he wondered if this was how Toriko felt when he entered a fight with a powerful beast. He'd be sure to ask the man later on that day, once he'd gotten the thieves out of his kitchen.

Komatsu didn't bother turning on the lights as he entered the dining hall that led to the kitchen; it amused him on some unknown level to see the thieves had actually turned the lights in the kitchen on. Well, he'd fix that soon. The power grid held the light switch to the kitchens, and if that was turned off, the men would be virtually blind. Komatsu, on the other hand, was already well-adjusted to the dark, and could maneuver through the dining hall and his kitchen without any problem. But he'd have to be quick.

Sneaking close to the door, Komatsu pressed an ear against the door and closed his eyes, listening to the murmuring of voices and the clanging of items. He caught the sound of four voices total – not a bad number, considering the size of the kitchen. Shifting to a crouch, he opened the door just a hair and peeked inside.

The men were all about Zonge's size – all burly muscle men that seemed to have no idea what it was they were even doing. They were throwing stuff into the sacks they held without even a hint of caution or care towards their actions – Komatsu burned with anger. Mistreating a chef's instruments was the same as mistreating the ingredients, and after going through the hell that was the Food Honor class, Komatsu had more than enough appreciation towards both the ingredients and the instruments used to make them into food.

His surveillance done, he left the dining hall and moved towards the grid box a floor below, being careful not to turn on any lights in case the goons in the kitchen had back-up. Not that he needed the lights, but still. The gridbox took his fingerprint and retinal scan, recognized him as a chef, and allowed him access. The switch to his kitchen was turned off, and Komatsu heard the surprised noises of the invaders even from a floor below. He smirked, released the box, and then headed back upstairs to his kitchen.

Slipping into his domain, he went over to where he kept his frying pans, and took them off the hooks. They had been a gift from Sunny a couple weeks back; the man insisted that since everything else in his kitchen was so beautiful, it was only proper that his frying pans – which had been old and thoroughly used - be equally beautiful. Komatsu had been shocked and touched, and had thanked him.

The pans were made from an extra-sturdy ore that Sunny had found in a peninsula off the coast. They could take a serious beating, and give one as well, and were very dangerous tools in Komatsu's hands. Shifting them into a proper grip, Komatsu pressed himself along the walls and listened hard, waiting for one of the thieves to get close enough to the door for him to give him a serious smack.

His chance came moments later, when a grumbling thief muttering about the position of the light switch happened to get a bit too close. Raising the bigger pan, he waited until the thief was almost in front of him, and then swung it.

The sound the pan made against the man skull was satisfying; even more satisfying was the little whimpering moan he gave as he crashed to the floor. Smirking, Komatsu twirled the pan and reached down, picking the man's arm up and dragging out of the kitchen and into the dining hall, where he was deposited.

He was fixing to turn and head back, when a familiar voice spoke. _"Got some thieves in your kitchen, brat?"_

Komatsu, not quite used to Zebra's random ghostly visits, jumped. "Zebra-san! You scared me." He pressed a hand to his heart and waited for it to calm down a bit before speaking. "I could have sworn I was out of your range."

"_Kekeke, you're never out of __**my **__range, brat. Toriko's maybe, that fool Sunny's maybe, even Coco's range perhaps, but not mine."_

Komatsu sighed. "Good to know. But shouldn't you be asleep? You need your rest, you know."

"_Don't lecture me, cocky brat, or I'll blow your fucking head off!" _A pause followed, before Zebra spoke again. _"I __**was **__asleep, until I heard you get up. Imagine my fucking surprise when I find you in the kitchen, banging around like a moron. Just what the fuck are you doing, anyway?"_

"Currently beating the thieves up with my frying pans."

"_Che! That's a fucking great way to go about it, stupid brat! Who the fuck told you to get up at three and go get yourself killed acting like a hero anyway?"_

"Okay, I would just like to say Zebra-san, firstly, I'm not going to get killed. Secondly, it was Toriko-san's idea. He told me to stand up and do something if someone takes over my territory. And personally, I think he's right." Hands on hips, Komatsu glowered at the invisible speaker. Years of hanging around Zebra had given him a bit more bravery, and knowledge about how to proceed around the man without getting killed.

Zebra was quiet for a while, and when he finally spoke up again, it was in a mutter that sounded suspiciously bitter.

"…_he would say something stupid like that. __**Fine. **__Cover your ears, fucking brat.__**"**_

Komatsu did so, and seconds later what felt like an earthquake rocked the place. Screams within the kitchen told him the men were feeling the effects of Zebra's voice, and possibly even dying as a result. Komatsu would have freaked out, but a few years with the four had taught him a lot of things, including expecting these kinds of things. Death no longer freaked him out, simply because he had been shot, slashed, cut and bitten so many different times, and because Zebra liked to crush skulls a lot.

When it was finally over, Komatsu sighed and took his hands off his ears. "Thank you, Zebra-san."

"_Cocky brat. That dinner tomorrow had better be fuckin delicious, or I'll tear your goddamned nuts off and feed 'em to ya!"_

"Understood, Zebra-san. Thank you again, and goodnight."

After that, all that was left was clean-up duty. There were a total of six bodies in the kitchen, a fact which told Komatsu they hadn't just been here to steal, but to vandalize and damage as well. Fortunately, they hadn't gotten any farther than spray-painting the walls. Komatsu was able to tug all six dead bodies out around the back of the hotel, put them in the trash, wash the walls to squeaky-clean perfection, remove any and all traces of blood from the area, take everything back out of the bags and put them back in their proper places, and get the only alive man remaining tied up and in front of the hotel with a sign that said, _"I tried to steal food from Hotel Gourmet" _in big bold letters around his neck before morning came, and the Hotel was reopened.

As promised he made Zebra-san's dinner excellent, and no one was ever the wiser to Komatsu's little late-night outing. Well, until someone happened to come across the bodies in the dumpster.

But overall, it was a pretty good night.


End file.
